


Deception, Destruction and Danger

by impravidus



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Hydra (Marvel), Hydra!Peter, Irondad, Other, fake identity, mission
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-06 23:05:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18860785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impravidus/pseuds/impravidus
Summary: When HYDRA’s most valued assassin is sent to portray the character of innocent Peter Parker to gain the trust of the Avengers in a mission of execution, what happens when he begins to let emotions cloud his judgement and becomes attached to the people behind the masks?





	1. Chapter 1

Araignée Noire was not just born into HYDRA, he was created for HYDRA. From the moment he was born, they began to experiment on their secret weapon.

    Araignée Noire did not see much. He only knew of dim lit fluorescents and people in black uniforms. He knew of needles in his veins, cocked guns in his hands, and piercing screams of his enemies. He knew that emotions were unnecessary distractions, a form of weakness that only delicate, fragile, irrelevant people had. They were weak, and Araignée Noire was not weak.

    Araignée Noire was trained from the moment he could walk. He was well-versed in all forms of martial arts, kickboxing, and gymnastics. He knew how to skillfully wield any weapon, and dodge any attack. He understood the offense and the defense.

    Araignée Noire had super-strength, super-hearing, super-sight. He could detect danger mere moments before they occur. He could stick to walls and ceilings. His metabolism was so advanced that poisons and tranquilizers barely affected him. He was anything but human, and that’s the way it had to be.

    Despite his innocent demeanor, he was cold to the touch. He didn’t believe in affection because affection was a distraction. He knew facts because facts would always be reliable. Mission assignments, progress reports, names, faces, all facts he could memorize with ease. His mind molded to comprehend the most difficult of concepts, decipher any password, dismantle any bombs.

    However, his most valued skill was his manipulation. He could play any character. Some days he needs to be a lost child looking for his parents. Some days he was a distraction. Some days he was in his suit reeking havoc and destruction. He knew who to mold himself into, and that meant he didn’t know who he truly was.

    Araignée Noire was tactful, Araignée Noire was intelligent and dangerous.

    But that was Araignée Noire.

    The boy behind the mask was nameless. He didn’t have a family. He didn’t have a birthday. He didn’t even have his own personality.

    The boy behind the mask was weak. He felt feelings. He cried and he felt guilt when he tortured or killed. He smiled as he read Bruce Banner’s studies on gamma radiation, and got giddy when he learned how to deconstruct cars. He had feelings, and feelings were a distraction.

    The boy behind the mask feared who he has become. He had no control over his body when Araignée Noire was behind the wheel. When his words were said, he was not the boy behind the mask. He couldn’t control what Araignée Noire did, and when the boy behind the mask began appearing again, he was erased.

    The boy behind the mask was not praised. The boy behind the mask was punished, and he knew his place. He had no place in HYDRA. Only Araignée Noire. So he hid far behind the mask.

Both Araignée Noire and the boy behind the mask knew what life should be like. Life is structured. Every action has a purpose. Every word is said with intent. There was no stuttering. There was no hesitation. There was knowing and there was doing.   

 

    His mission leader, Dr. Eickenhoff, approached him one night. He praised Araignée Noire for eliminating the target. He awarded Araignée Noire a well-deserved meal with, not a smile, but with a stern expression which was a nice break from his anger.

    “I have come here to debrief you on your next mission, Araignée Noire.” The brown haired boy looked up to the man who towered above him, feebly eating his unsalted potato. “We believe you have finally reached the point in your training to complete the final step.”

    His eyes widened at the mention of the allusive final step he had been preparing for for fifteen years. “I am ready?”

    “Do not doubt yourself, boy. Doubt is for the weak. Doubt is a distraction.”

    He nodded. “Yes sir.”

    “You know of the Avengers, correct?”

    He nodded again. “I have done copious amounts of research on each Avenger. Would you like me to debrief you on the information?”

    The balding man shook his head. “That will not be necessary. However, I entrust your information is reliable.” He took out a manilla folder, something quite common in his mission statements. “You will be infiltrating the Avengers.”

    The smaller boy’s eyes widened. The enemy? The Avengers who are the main enemy of HYDRA? He looked through the folder, his mind making permanent mental notes of all of the information.

 

    Alias: Peter Benjamin Parker

    Personality: Innocent, upbeat, optimistic, kind

    Appearance: Unsuspecting, American teenage boy

Notable Traits: Above-average intelligence, engineering skills

    Flaws: Physically weak, over-emotional, easily distracted

    Alternate Alias: Spider-Man

    Traits: Optimistic, heroic, instills false sense of safety to citizens

    Backstory: Peter has just moved to Queens and lives with his Aunt May. He acquired his superhuman power when being bit by a radioactive spider.

    Mission: Attend Midtown High School as unsuspecting teen, Peter Benjamin Parker. Outside of school, pose as Avenger-like vigilante “Spider-Man.” Perform acts such as stopping robberies, aiding the elderly, and defeating crime as Spider-Man to make a name for yourself in Queens. Continue to do this until you gain the attention of Tony Stark. When this is achieved, create a connection with the Avengers. Establish trust and false security. Once there is a moment of hesitation and unsuspecting trust, eliminate.

    Mission Notes: Character must never be broken. Character must only be broken when giving mission statements to the mission leader through coded messages through app on cellular device provided. Do not draw any attention that is not necessary. Information about HYDRA must never be revealed, and if the mission is compromised, Araignée Noire must inject the provided serum into bloodline, killing himself instantly.

 

    Filled with shock at the importance of his mission, the brown-eyed boy looked up to his mission leader. Gulping, he replied, “I will complete this mission and you will not be dissapointed. Hail HYDRA.”

 

    And so that began his new life. Peter Benjamin Parker, unsuspecting, weak, average highschooler. He had never attended high school, so for preparation, he was to skim fictional novels, watch “Disney Original Movies,” and view “YouTube vlogs.” He was given a debit card which he was told would be refilled when thought necessary. All purchases would be tracked, and if there are unnecessary purchases, he would be punished. He was told five passwords -- his phone password, the password to the safe for his HYDRA weapons, the password for his HYDRA app, the password for his bank account, and the code to his access entry into his new home. He was told that this apartment was staged to look like an inconspicuous Queens home, and his new wardrobe would be there.

He had his first list of tasks that needed to be completed and he kept them to memory.

 

  1. Buy fabric and sewing equipment to create an unprofessional and nonfunctioning suit for “Spider-Man”
  2. Purchase school equipment such as a “backpack”
  3. Create acquaintances but not enough to cause unnecessary attention



   

    Before he knew it, he was on his first subway ride starting a mission that would change his life forever.


	2. Chapter 2

As the boy behind the mask, no, as Peter typed in the personalized passcode to his apartment, he was welcomed by an atmosphere he had never experienced before. He knew of the concrete walls and fluorescent lights, but not of hardwood floor and natural sunlight streaming through glass windows. Sure, he had been on outdoor missions, but being on his own, no immediate target, basking in the warm sun? It was nice.

He unconsciously let himself smile as he sat on the soft couch and felt the blankets on his soft bed. As he hopped into the shower for what he planned to be a quick cleaning became a ten minute decompression, savoring the feeling of warm water on his back. In HYDRA they only had cold or lukewarm water in their showers and they were restricted to four minutes maximum. One minute to shampoo, three minutes to clean the body. But here, though he couldn’t let himself linger in the warmth for too long, he relaxed. His mission is long term, and he can use up an extra five minutes.

When he exited the shower and wrapped the scratchy towel around his hips, he went to his closet, unsure of what he was expecting. What sort of new wardrobe would he be wearing? He had been assigned to play average American boy before, but for brief missions. Each character had a different style, mostly differing to his all black HYDRA uniform. Colorful t-shirts, hoodies, and jeans hung from from the closet, and he stared in bewilderment as he felt the material between his fingers. It was so soft. He was used to leather or synthetic athletic wear. But this? This felt too good to be true.

Don’t let this make you weak, Araignée Noire. You are not weak.

Slipping a shirt that read “Come to the dark side, we have cookies” with a man in a black mask, and a pair of blue denim pants. It was an unfamiliar feeling, but it would be his new norm.

Slipping on the new pair of Converse sneakers which felt foreign on his feet, he pocketed his debit card and phone and headed to a store called “Jo-Ann Fabrics.”

He felt lost as he wandered the aisles of the craft store. His training had prepared him for combat, bombs, and basic medical training. It did not prepare him to sew, though he was a quick learner and a master at stitching stab wounds.

For a moment he paused as he stared at the cloths. He wasn’t a HYDRA assassin anymore. He was Peter Parker. He was Spider-Man. What would someone like Spider-Man wear? Certainly not a black leather suit like Araignée Noire once wore. Holding back a smile, he purchased a soft blue fabric, and grabbed a two dollar red hoodie from the clearance section. Selecting the essentials and a black fabric marker, he approached the cashier, flipping on the “calm, confident, casual” switch inside his mind.

Unsurprisingly, the transaction was uneventful. Average even. This new sense of domesticity was exotic to his overactive mind. Instead of each word having purpose, there were meaningless pleasantries of how are you? “I’m good, how are you?” I’m good. Awkward silences with a fatuous have a nice day concluded the conduct.

Trained to survive off of two hours of sleep, he stayed up all night crafting his Spider-Man outfit. He knew it couldn’t look too tactiful or impressive; he was an average, teenage boy. Why would it be of good quality? The finishing touch was the spider emblem drawn with fabric pen. He didn’t know why but he felt immense pride in his creation. Sure he created things all of time, but this was different. This was all his.

The next day he completed his second task, school supplies. What are school supplies?

The oblivious teen wandered around the aisles of the local Staples, getting everything from an article titled “High School Supplies List” that he found on a very innovative and useful application called “Google.” He got everything except for something called a “backpack.” He had heard of the term in passing, probably from an older mission when he was younger and was playing a young school student, but he wasn’t sure where to find such a thing.

Apparently it was easier to find a “backpack” than he had anticipated. There was a vast selection of this asset and he got to make a choice. He’s making a lot of choices today. Feeling satisfied with his completion of tasks one and two of his mission, he returned back to the apartment, unsure of what to do. He never had free time at HYDRA. If he wasn’t training or on a mission, he was studying. Whether it be background checks on the Avengers, various sciences, or memorization of one of the seven other languages he knew -- Mandarin, Spanish, French, German, Hindi, Russian, and Japanese -- he didn’t have much time to just take a moment and breath. So there he was, lying on his back on his new bed, realizing it had been almost two days since he had eaten. He had a sudden realization. He didn’t have to work for the food he ate anymore. He chose his meals. He could eat whenever he wanted, whenever he was hungry.

 

The restrictions started from when he could speak for himself. He was four years old. His super metabolism was making his stomach churn in pain. He begged Dr. Eickenhoff to give him some food, but the broad shouldered man stood with his arms crossed, shaking his head.

“When you stop being weak, and be a useful asset to HYDRA, you will get food.”

The boy in the mask sobbed, pleading him to end the pain. He would do any mission, torture any prisoner. He just needed food. It had been days since he had eaten and he had no way of proving himself.

“You’ve brought this on yourself, boy. Your training has been lacking. You’re sloppy and have had minimal improvement. You’re becoming distracted by feelings, you haven’t been keeping up with your studies, and your missions have been lackluster. Prove yourself first, and you’ll get food when you deserve it.”

 

He checked his balance in his Bank of America account. It read $1,654.46. Peter didn’t quite understand the concept of money, but he knew he couldn’t spend too much, or he would be punished, and he really didn’t want to be punished.

Pushing away his fears, the worries that made him weak, he strolled down the streets of Queens, taking in the sights he didn’t before. A little shop caught his eye. “Delmar’s Deli-Grocery,” he mumbled to himself. When he entered he let the various smells overwhelm his senses. It was a quaint little shop, and he had never seen one of its kind before. “Hi. What do you recommend?” The man behind the counter smiled, his eyes crinkling at the action.

“Well we’ve got the best sandwiches in Queens.” Sandwich? What is a sandwich?

“Which one do you think I should try?” The man shuffled around, grabbing various ingredients that all intrigued Peter, all placing them together.

“A number five with pickles,” he placed the wrapped “sandwich” in front of him. “Five dollars.”

Peter, astounded by the simplicity, took a quick glance around the store. “Do you mind if I look around? Get some other things?”

The man shrugged. “Go right ahead, kid.”

As Peter started to meander around the small bodega, his eyes focused on a small creature laying atop the counter. What is that? The creature looked up to him a mewed. “What is this?”

“Oh that’s Murph,” the man responded casually.

“Yeah but… what is it?”

He shrugged again. “Not sure. He’s just a mutt that kept wandering around. I loved him too much to kick him out though.”

Knowing he wouldn’t get any more answers, Peter continued to admire the versatile items stocked in the store. He grabbed all sorts of treats he had never heard of. “Hot n’ Spicy Pork Rinds” and “Arizona Iced Teas” all went into his basket along with his sandwich. He grabbed “Ramen Noodles” and “Gummy Bears” and “Microwave Popcorn.” He filled his basket with the cheap and accessible items and went back to the register.

“I am ready to pay now.” The man let out a hearty laugh.

“It sure looks that way.” The two talked and Peter realized this man was different than the people behind the counters of the Staples and Jo-Ann Fabrics. He had real conversations with him and asked him questions that he had to make answers up to. He spoke Spanish, which Peter responded fluently with, not realizing that was uncommon. The man, Delmar, seemed to like him, and Peter knew he was going to come back.

When he returned to his apartment, he used his common sense and knowledge from the “get ready with me” videos he had watched to realize that some of the food he had purchased had to go into the refrigerator.

Sitting at the island, elbows cold from the granite island as he held the sandwich in his hands, he reluctantly took a bite. His eyes were as wide as saucers, and his taste buds were dancing from the burst of flavors. This was nothing like his unsalted potatoes. This had so much… what was it? Flavor? He felt euphoric as he savored each bite. Then he took a swig of his Arizona iced tea. Woah. He had no idea that drinks could have this much flavor. All he drank was water or water with treatments to make him stronger. This was definitely not water. For the first time in a long time, Peter felt full. Not just his stomach, but his life. He just felt… more. Like he wasn’t just a nameless nobody. He was Peter Parker. And he liked that more than he should.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day was the third step to his mission. Attend school and make acquaintances. Simple, right?

Right?

It shouldn’t have been so daunting entering the doors of Midtown High School. It’s just public school. All of these weak, average, untrained normals went to them. Surely a super intelligent, superhuman should get through easily.

But this was a new environment. Bustling halls overwhelmed his senses, overhearing each and every conversation all at once. In HYDRA they had soundproof walls to prevent him from uncovering things he didn’t have access to. His mind was working overtime memorizing the voices associated to each individual face. Jessica had a warm toned voice, a slight rasp, and she’s “pissed” that Derek “dumped her over text.” Derek was a bleach blonde, boasting about the “girl he hit up the DMs” of. Each person was going into the archives of his mind, mostly unimportant, but to store in case they were valuable for the future. He hadn’t even realized he had been staring at a specific individual until he approached him.

“What’s up with the staring, new kid? Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Peter restrained himself. “What’s your name?”

“Peter Parker,” he responded, not too confident. Peter Parker wasn’t confident. He was unsuspecting.

“More like Penis Parker!” The boy laughed obnoxiously and walked off with his friends, raising his middle finger to the brown-haired boy.

“Unusual,” he muttered to himself. He followed the schedule he was provided to what was explained to be a locker. He had seen them in the Disney films he had been assigned to watch. 32-07-14.

“Hey man. Are you new?” Peter looked up and assessed the teen standing before him. Seems of some sort of asian descent, voice at around an E3, no sort of outstanding features.

“Yeah, I’m new.”

The other teen smiled and held out his hand for Peter to shake. “Ned Leeds. This is my locker. We’re locker buddies.” He patted the cold metal. “If you want I can show you around?”

Success. An acquaintance. “Yeah I would really appreciate that.” He handed his schedule to the teen — Ned — pretending as though he hadn’t already memorized it and the layout of the building.

“Dude, we have like all the same classes! I guess we’ll be seeing more of each other.”

“I would like that.”

Ned, with a cheeky grin, made a “follow me” motion with his hand. “I’ll show you to your first class.”

 

The day went by slow. Some of his classes he learned about formulas and equations he had been doing since his early childhood. But other classes he was presented with a whole new world of information. History in particular sparked his interest. Sure, he knew HYDRA history, but this George Washington guy? He’s pretty cool.

Ned told Peter than gym was the worst part of the day, but he didn’t understand why it was such an issue. It’s just training, right?

As he entered the locker room, the scent of perspiration and Axe deodorant protruded his nose. He could tell people were eyeing him as he changed, but he didn’t understand why. Looking around, he realized the difference from him than them. He was quite fit. Maybe too much for unsuspecting, average Peter Parker. How could he change that? His enhanced metabolism and years of physical training ensured his physical fitness was at the highest caliber.

When they all entered the gymnasium. they did something called the American fitness test, and Peter knew he had to hold back, but guessing by the looks from his peers, he didn’t hold back enough. Are 100 laps in the Pacer uncommon?

“Dude, you didn’t even break a sweat!” The dark-haired boy exclaimed.

“Yeah, I used to run track,” he responded, remembering the concept of the track team in an animated video by “Domics.”

“You should totally go out for the team here!”

This set off some alarms in Peter’s mind. Too much attention.

“I’ve just got such a busy schedule, you know? I don’t have the time.” Dejected, Ned just raised his thumb up. Unsure of what that meant, Peter continued on with the class.

Peter held back even more as he continued the fitness test, but it strained him. He was perfection. He was superiority. He knew he needed to always push himself to be the best, yet here he was, holding back from simple routine.

When it came time for lunch, Peter was unprepared. He had seen the concept of the lunch room in several films like High School Musical and Mean Girls, but he still didn’t fully understand the concept.

“Do you not have a lunch?” Ned asked as the two sat at a table.

“No, I don’t.” Even though his morals of “eat what you earn” were screaming at him, there was no one to determine if he had earned his food. Despite his realization the night before, he still didn’t feel secure in the freedom of his new life. He determined when he deserved food now, and he didn’t know if he did.

“Do you have any money in your account?”

Peter looked to him, confused at the question. “My account? Like my bank account?”

The tanned teen chuckled slightly. “No, dude. Your school account for the cafeteria. You can just go buy something.”

He nodded slowly, getting up to join the line of students. “I’ll go do that.”

Having a basic conversation with Ned was already taxing to his mind. If he thought the hallways were bad, the cafeteria was unbearable. The chatter was deafening and the various smells of foods he didn’t recognize made him more curious about this new world of food.

As he entered the lunchline, he was ecstatic. He grabbed two pieces of “pizza” and a cardboard cup of “mac and cheese.” To his relief, he did have “money in his account” and when he asked they said he has enough for school lunches year round.

“Oh dude, you shouldn’t have gotten the pizza. It’s like the blandest, fakest pizza you’ll ever get. It’s basically marinara sauce on cardboard.”

Peter didn’t get that analogy, and continued to eat, moaning in delight as he ate. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. This is the best thing I’ve ever had.”

Ned eyed him suspiciously. “Have you never had pizza?”

The brunette boy looked to him, realizing he had done something out of the norm. “I mean no I haven’t.”

“You haven’t lived. It’s official. You’re coming to my place, and we are ordering a pizza where each slice is a different flavor. You are going to start your new life, Peter Parker, pizza lover.”

“Are you telling me that there is pizza that is even better than this pizza?”

“Oh you have no idea.”

 

Ned wasn’t one to break a promise. Peter arrived to his house that Friday after school, greeted by a gasp as Ned answered the door.

“You like Star Wars?!” He exclaimed excitedly.

Peter looked down at his t-shirt. “Actually I don’t know what it is. My… aunt got me this shirt.”

Ned’s jaw dropped. “You’ve never even heard of Star Wars? What, were you raised in an underground base with no access to the internet?”

Peter froze, forcing an awkward laugh. “What? Me? In a… in an underground base? I know what the, I mean I’ve heard of Star Wars just not like got around to reading it…”

“Do you mean watching it?”

“Yes! Yes watch it is what I meant.”

Ned dragged him in. “Okay, we are binging the movies. Call your aunt and ask her if you can stay until tomorrow because we are in dire need of a Star Wars marathon.”

“I’ll call her right now,” he responded, taking out his phone and pretending to start a call. “Uh hey Aunt May, you know that guy from school I told you about? Yeah Ned. He invited me to stay at his house tonight. May I? Cool thanks.” He turned back to Ned as he pretended to hang up the phone. “She said yes.”

Ned pumped his fist in the air. “Okay so a full Star Wars marathon would literally be 24 hours if we didn’t even take breaks, so we are going to start with the first chunk of movies. We aren’t going to watch them in chronological order because there are too many plot twists revealed and the prequels are shit, so just trust me on this one. We’ll start with episode four, five, and six. Sound gucci?”

To Peter, Ned’s vernacular was foreign to his ears. Whenever he spoke with him, he was lost following his slang. However, he just nodded along as Ned pulled him onto his bed and set up his laptop.

“I called Grande’s Pizzeria and ordered a deep dish pizza and there’s four different flavors, since I don’t know what you’ll like. We’ve got pepperoni, we’ve got meat lovers, we’ve got Hawaiian, and we’ve got the Philly cheesesteak. This is going to blow your mind.”

And indeed it did. When he thought pepperoni was groundbreaking, the moment he got a taste of the ham and pineapple, his world was flipped upside down. “This is amazing!”

“Oh no. I got that just kind of as a way to make sure you weren’t a sociopath, but you are. You’re basically the equivalent of a murderous assassin.”

“What?” Peter was now panicking, concerned his cover had been blown.

“Pineapple on pizza is a crime against humanity! I can’t believe you actually like it!”

“Oh.” He sighed in relief. “I didn’t know that people weren’t supposed to like, what did you call it, pineapple?”

“Yeah… pineapple.” Ned looked to him confused again, but went back to his tangent. “Warm pineapple is like just wrong. Especially on the holy gift that is pizza.”

Peter didn’t quite understand yet, but he was softening to the normality of meaningless conversation. No mission, no commands, just talking about your day or pineapple on pizza.

The rest of the night he watched in wonder as they mindlessly watched Star Wars. He asked questions and Ned didn’t mind. It was an average night, but to Peter, it was anything but.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’ve fallen into a deep abyss of writer’s block so i don’t know when the next chapter is coming :/


End file.
